


So In A Shapeless Flame

by clockworkrobots



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 23:26:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkrobots/pseuds/clockworkrobots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas romances Dean with poetic prowess. </p>
<p>(Loosely based on setting spoilers for 8.11, but could really take place at any time. Literally just an excuse for John Donne-style seduction.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	So In A Shapeless Flame

**Author's Note:**

> The aforementioned 8.11 spoilers have to do with Dean and Sam visiting a renaissance fair/medieval LARP-ing convention (both terms have been used in spoiler descriptions although the latter's probably more accurate?) in an upcoming episode, but really, this has nothing to do the episode.

  
"You're... not in your usual clothing," is the first thing Castiel says when he appears in the middle of their motel room, brows raised in slight surprise at Dean's new form of dress, who is decked head to toe in cloth last fashionable in the time of Elizabeth I. 

Dean grins as he spreads his arms, doublet adorned chest puffed out proudly. "Like it? Me and Sammy hit up a case at a Renaissance fair thing, got some free swag as recompense, to, you know, complement my natural swagger."

Cas stares contemplatively. "It's very..."

"Dashing?" Dean prompts.

"Dated."

"Hey!" Dean balks, crossing his red and gold guilded sleeves over the velvety beige front of his doublet in defence. "I'll have you know I'm a regular fucking Don Juan in this."

"This style is not Spanish," Cas is all dryly points out.

Dean rolls his eyes and moves one hand to curl his palm around the pummel of the replica sword hanging off his hip. "Because you're a fashion expert."

Cas quirks an eyebrow. "Need I remind you I was alive during the era of the Renaissance?"

"Yeah, yeah, you're fucking old," Dean concedes, stepping closer into Cas' space to give him a proper greeting. He ducks one hand under Cas' coat to find his favourite notch of bone at his hip. "You should be able to appreciate my call-back to your youth, then," he says, smiling cockily.

Of course, Cas could give as well as he could get. "Oh, I'm appreciative," he rumbles, trailing his own hand up Dean's back.

"Yeah?" Dean teases, head moving in at an angle that would suggest a kiss, but then switches focus to graze his cheek against stubbled cheek. "Show me, Casanova," he taunts, and Dean can _feel_ Cas reign in a growl.

Cas pulls his head back a bit to gaze upon Dean's face, head crooked just so and eyes newly ablaze with a sly sense of mischief Dean has learned to identify, as it's usually reflected in Dean's own. "I could _tell_ you instead," is all he says, before he pulls out of Dean's arms completely.

Dean quirks his own brow in question as Cas begins to circle around him. " _Dull sublunary lovers' love—Whose soul is sense,_ " he hears in a whisper from behind him, a warm breath puffing at the back of his neck, " _—cannot admit,_   _of absence, 'cause it doth remove, t_ _he thing which elemented it,_ " 

Dean huffs a short laugh as Cas unhooks his sword hilt, letting it drop beside the end of the nearest bed with a loud thud. "Seriously, Cas? Poetry?" 

Cas ignores him, continuing on with a low drawl as he comes back around to face Dean's front. " _But we by a love so much refined, that ourselves know not what it is,_ " he recites, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips, which suddenly Dean remembers he has not yet kissed.

He remediates that immeditately, cupping Cas' jaw and sucking on Cas' bottom lip before letting his mouth go to leeringly whisper, "Oh, I think I know what this is."

" _Inter-assurèd of the mind,_ " Cas brings his own hand up to rest at the base where Dean's ruffled collar meets the strong surface of his shoulder. " _Care less,_ " he whispers, and kisses the pulse point of Dean's wrist where the man's palm still rests against his cheek. " _Eyes,_ " he leans in to kiss the crinkled corners next to where Dean's eyelids briefly flutter closed. " _Lips,_ " he whispers, and presses his own against Dean's softly. " _And hands,_ " he finishes, stepping back to bring Dean's unused hand up to his lips for a kiss--" _to miss._ "

Dean swallows hard, wanting to make an evasive joke about what a gentleman Cas is, but finding it hard to find the words as a lump forms in his throat. " _Cas,_ what even--"

" _For this Love is enraged with me,_ " Cas says louder, voice curling over the syllables of the new verse with a determined desire, and turns the hand still captured within his own up so he can thread his fingers through it, " _yet kills not._ " Using the momentum from where their hands are joined. Cas pulls them both back towards the bed behind them. Taking this cue with renewed eagerness, and blush--for now--forgotten, Dean crowds Cas in close so that his calves bump against the edges of the still-made mattress, which, Dean silently muses with a tinge of smugness, will not to be neat for long.

Cas untangles their hands as he sits down, leaving Dean looming over him in grand display. As if just noticing they're both still clothed, Cas begins first by shucking his own coat and jacket as Dean takes care of his tie. Newly divested of his burdens, Cas trails his hands up the fine tailoured breeches coverings Dean's thighs. " _If I must example be to future rebels,_ " he continues, hand making their way up to gradually unlace Dean's doublet from the bottom up. He stops short of taking the vestment off Dean's shoulders for him, gaze instead falling to where Dean's arousal strains against the already suggestive form of his codpiece. " _If th' unborn must learn by my being cut up and torn._ "

For his part, Dean only smirks a bit at the potential innuendo of that, as the words fall gracefully but with ever pointed potential for dishevelment from Cas' ever more enticing lips.

Cas begins the tantalising trial of unlacing the strings of Dean's codpiece, as Dean's chest grows hotter and heavier, his whole body brimming growing expectation--literally and figuratively. " _As in the firmament,_ " Cas' delicate fingers tease the underside of Dean's bare balls when the codpiece finally falls free (the best advantage of such period costume, Dean thinks with the last mental coherence he can muster), and Dean sucks in a gasp. " _Stars by the sun are not enlarged,"_ Cas says as his lips loom close to Dean's freed and jetting erection, _"but shown,_ " he teases, just before he pulls his face away and Dean lets out frustrated groan.

" _Gentle love deeds,"_ Cas' eyes glow with intent, as he moves one hand through the opening of Dean's doublet and up under the soft linen of his shirt to make contant with the skin of his hip, which was _nice_ , but completely different from where Dean wanted him to be.Seemingly oblivious, although most certainly not, Cas ignores the hitch in Dean's breath and tumbles over the lastbit of measure: _"As blossoms on a bough--_ " 

Dean reclaims enough composure to growl, "Alright, less tell and more show now, flyboy."

"-- _From love's awakened root,_ " Cas' breath ghosts the exposed head of Dean's cock as Dean's heart beats in the same desperate iambic rhythm, " _do bud out now,_ " he finishes, and silences himself by taking the whole thing down into his mouth.

There is little effort towards words from either of them after that, as Cas swallows Dean down with a Byronic sense of artistry. The sweet heat envelops Dean whole, and already alight with the metaphorical power of Cas' tongue, the tangible feeling of Cas licking his way up and down Dean's cock is enough to wreck a violent shudder through him. He comes after only a few minutes of Cas hollowing out his cheeks around him, and the ecstasy almost feels endless.

"Shit, Shakespeare really _can_ do seduction," Dean exhales in the afterglow with a shaky laugh, looking as positively rakish as he should feel, chest heaving and cheeks flushed.

"Oh, that wasn't Shakespeare," Cas corrects. "Would you like to see what my mouth can do with _him_ next?"


End file.
